


Not Your Place

by verovex



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Five Year Olds, Incapable of Effective Communication, M/M, Remorseful Hug, Set in S4, The Iceberg Lounge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 15:31:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12484868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verovex/pseuds/verovex
Summary: ”You don’t have a say in this. Not anymore.”In which Ed tries to mind his business, still needing to mentally recuperate, but can’t ignore the blatant display of ignorance from Oswald, and the brewing betrayal from Sofia.“Is this your doing? Did you have street-trash girl bedazzle my only set of clothes? That warrants revenge—“





	Not Your Place

**Author's Note:**

> Based on two prompts, from these [two](https://cobblepotcrimefamily.tumblr.com/post/167910617942/jacoimagines-angstfluff-prompts-i-just-want) [lists](https://rjwriting.tumblr.com/post/166705667524/dialogue-prompts).

“You don’t have a say in this. Not _anymore._ ” Oswald retrieved his cane from where it had been nestled next to him, tapping it loudly onto the tile floor of the Iceberg Lounge, almost as if signalling an end to the conversation.

He found himself bemused, watching as Ed’s tongue seemed to be caught in his throat, trying to find a means to convey _whatever_  he’d been there to express. It wasn’t the difficulty Ed had in finding his words that Oswald found comical, it was in watching the gears shift, knowing Ed was likely misunderstanding himself, _repeatedly._

Oswald needed to remind himself to remain detached, observing as Ed pushed his glasses up the ridge of his nose, clearly indicating Ed’s nervous ticks had returned with a vengeance after being frozen. Something _else_  on a long list of repercussions for past impetuous _incidents._

 _“_ I really don’t have time to wait for you to figure this all out.” Oswald sighed, as Ed continued to open and close his mouth, no words being expelled.

Oswald gave a wayward glance to Victor Zsasz, who had plopped down into one of Oswald’s massive chairs, after an hour of listening to Ed _try_  to converse. Zsasz knew Ed was hardly a threat in this state. It amused him on a different level than it did his boss, of that he was certain. He’d never been a fan of Ed, mostly because the brunt of the lanky man’s actions were illogical and borderline antithetical. Perhaps he’d have a different outlook if he hadn’t grown to be fond of Oswald’s techniques.

”Victor, please see Mr. Nygma out, would you?” Oswald deadpanned, finally reaching a limit in patience. The longer Ed stayed, the longer he had to simmer in remorse, and he’d been doing _fine_  suppressing those emotions.

Zsasz leapt to his feet on the order, coming around to grasp Ed’s arm to yank him out of the chair. Ed snapped it out of reach.

”Boss says it’s time to go, so it’s _time to go_.” Zsasz drawled, reaching over again, which earned a childish swat to his hand as Ed sunk further into his seat.

” _No!_  Just let me—“

“We’re going on two hours of this.” Oswald slammed a hand against the desk, pushing his chair back as he rose, grip tight on his cane, and gait heavy as he moved around the desk towards the door out into the club’s main area. As he opened it, the sensory overload of loud music and bar chatter seemed to cause Ed to sink into the chair even more.

Oswald gave a pointed look to Zsasz, who shrugged and attempted to pull at Ed. This time Ed frantically swung his legs around the chair, fluttering them up and down defensively from the armrest, again swatting at Zsasz’s outstretched arm. Oswald took a deep _tested_  breath, throwing the door shut, effectively bringing silence around the office. He canted his head towards the couch, motioning for Zsasz to resume his perch there.

”You are wasting my time.” Oswald seethed, walking the short distance back to his desk, and leaning against the front of it instead, finding mild amusement in how Ed was positioned. 

“If it was anyone else you would’ve had me more _forcefully_ removed from the premises, so—“

”That can still be arranged,” Oswald interjected, pursing his lips.

”Stop interrupting me!” Ed turned his body around, sitting back into the seat properly, eyes darting over to the kingpin. “ _So_ , clearly I still carry some weight.”

”Yes, you are a heavy burden of irritation.” Oswald crossed his arms over his chest, averting his gaze to the window that overlooked the lounge. “Shouldn’t you be... hosting at Cherry’s again tonight?”

That pulled a grin to Ed’s lips. “Keeping tabs on me, Oswald?”

”Hard not to when you keep _ridiculing_ me on stage.”

New realization seemed to dawn on Ed as he looked down at his recently ruined outfit, flattening the suit jacket, and spreading glitter _everywhere_. “Is this _your_  doing? Did you have street-trash girl _bedazzle_ my only set of clothes? That warrants revenge—“

Zsasz seemed to perk up at the verbiage, hastily moving to his feet. Oswald placed a hand up into the air, wordlessly indicating things were _quite_ under control. Ed looked over his shoulder to catch Zsasz’s re-holstering his weapons.

Oswald placed a feigned pensive finger to his lips, gaze traveling to the ceiling, taking on a jeering tone, ”what was it you said again? How I hardly pose a threat when I can’t even solve basic riddles, or keep an enemy entombed in ice?”

“Not in those exact words but—“

“Haven’t you learned what happens when you _underestimate_ me?” Oswald’s gaze came down, finding Ed was still watching him.

”Haven’t you learned what happens when someone’s _clearly_ taking advantage of the weakness you harbour for your mother?”

If it had been a year or two beforehand, or even six months prior, Oswald would have faltered. He might have caved in to the urge to pull the blade from the tip of his cane, tempted to illustrate how much of a _threat_ he still was, but he had grown. Ed didn’t know that, didn’t know what had occurred over the many months, didn’t know that his tantrums were few and in between. His mother was still an anguished-ridden topic, but he didn’t need to give Ed an acknowledgment of his grief.

Oswald settled on tapping his fingers against the dark wood of his desk, eyeing the window into the lounge again.

”Did you hear me?” Ed furrowed his brow, leaning forward in his seat, unsettled by the lack of response. “She’s just _using_  you, Oswald. She’s using the memory of your mother against you-“

”Similar to how _you_  used my father against _me_? Or, how _Fish_ used Carmine’s mother against _him,_ with Liza?” Oswald scoffed, waving a hand dismissively, before returning it to grip at the desk.

”If you’re so all-knowing, then why—“

”Am I entertaining Sofia’s company?” Oswald finished, aware their conversation was borderlining personal, and uncertain how much he wanted to delve into his plans. Ed _always_ wanted answers, Oswald was eager to keep them to himself. However, knowing Ed would probably do everything he could to obtain this answer, would probably mean him showing up to the lounge more than just once, or making reckless attempts to foil whatever plans he had. Oswald found himself conflicted.

”Well, yes.” Ed prompted after a few seconds when Oswald didn’t immediately continue with an explanation. The response had sounded rhetorical. “Why?”

“It’s _not your place. Again,_  you don’t have a say in this, not anymore.” Oswald decided, shifting his weight to propel himself off the desk, moving towards the door. ”I think that’s enough for today.” 

Ed couldn’t find the words to say, ideas spiralled around in his mind, but he didn’t know which to settle on. This wasn’t what he had anticipated, the flow of conversation hadn’t gone how he envisioned. Every time he decided on how to communicate his concern for Sofia’s _eventual_  betrayal, something else had come out entirely.

Finally, he rescinded, sighing as he got up from the chair, making his way over to the door as Oswald held it open. The sounds of the lounge filtered into the office again, as Ed stopped short of the entrance, peering down at Oswald in front of him.

The air felt _heavy_.

”I’m worried about you.” Ed finally said, Oswald barely catching it over the sound of music.

”Careful, Ed. Only friends worry about one another.”

Zsasz had barely made it to his feet as Ed reached forward, yanking Oswald into a one-sided embrace, whispering something surely only Oswald could hear, and then quickly withdrawing.

Ed _smirked_  at the mess he’d made of the front of Oswald’s suit jacket, now littered with glitter.

”That satisfies my need for revenge. Same time tomorrow?” Ed gibed, finally taking his leave from the office, and eventually the lounge.

Oswald teetered on the heels of his shoes, catching his breath once he’d seen Ed leave, and then promptly slamming the door to his office, retreating to his chair. He’d forgotten Zsasz was there, not noticing as the assassin took his cue to leave, basing the decision on Oswald’s fuming disposition.

 _‘You will always be my best friend, Oswald.’_ Ed had whispered into the shell of his ear, his skin still felt like it’d been burned.

The words were like a mantra running rampant through his thoughts, threatening to unravel _everything_  Oswald had encased. He had counted on Ed returning for answers, but it was more for Oswald’s own innocuous, _selfish_  need to have him in his life. He hadn’t thought Ed would still hold some value to their _ruined_  friendship.

It was almost _too_ much; from the nature of Sofia’s actions as of late - forcing him to reminisce of his mother, and _actually_  finding some sort of halcyon resolve in allowing it to continue; to _this_ , Ed’s words, forcing him to revive the notion that he would only have _one_ true love, and he kept _allowing_ Ed to live with that hold over him.

It was _paralyzing_.


End file.
